


I've Wandered Ten Thousand Years for You, To See This Coming True

by paynofile



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Books, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hipster Harry, Hipsters, Kissing, M/M, Nerdiness, Oral Sex, Reading, Sex, Smut, bookstore, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynofile/pseuds/paynofile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one where Louis works in a bookstore and Harry is just some hipster with a kindle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Wandered Ten Thousand Years for You, To See This Coming True

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Keely (nhorahn.tumblr.com) for the prompt :)

_I've wandered ten thousand years for you,_  
To see this coming true.   
I've been to the outer edge of time,   
To try to make you mine.   
I've been so far gone,  
That there's no need to try redeeming me.   
 **I believe that I'm the greatest of mistakes,  
That ever has been made.**

            -Stabilo, “Gateway”

 

When the curly haired boy walked into his shop for the first time, Louis’ nose was buried in a book. That was nothing new, of course. He could often be found with thick frames sliding down his nose, eyes darting frantically across the page as he lost himself in the story; Louis was a sucker for stories. That day, as the bells on the door signalled the entrance of a potential customer, Louis was glued to a battered copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. A children’s book, he knew that, but it had just come in that day and a sort of nostalgia combined with his love of the smell of old books had compelled Louis to crack it open. And so it was that Harry’s first glimpse of the blue-eyed boy he was nestled in an armchair behind an old oak desk with lamplight slanting in over his soft brown hair.

Harry himself was frostbitten and too lanky for his own good. His hair was blown every which way from the freezing wind outside, and his cheeks were bright red with the cold. His hands, insufficiently covered by fingerless gloves, were clasped around a starbucks cup as if it was the Holy Grail. He’d never been in the bookstore before, had passed it many times on his way to class though. Today it was not so much the desire for new reading material that pushed him inside (he had a kindle- paper books were _so_ last year), but rather the lack of feeling in his toes and the fact that Chapter 17 Books was the only store open this late on a Tuesday. With the door jamming shut behind him, Harry turned and locked eyes with the boy behind the counter, who immediately folded down the corner of his page and hopped up from his chair.

“How can I help you?” he said, crossing the narrow store in a few quick strides and helping Harry out of his coat.

“Didn’t realize you had butler service in here,” Harry chuckled as Louis held out a hand for his scarf. He was answered with a self-satisfied grin.

“Just one of the many services I offer.”

“And the rest are…?”

“Helping you find books, of course!” Louis scolded, turning back from the coat rack.

Harry had definitely not been admiring the way those jeans hugged the curve of his arse, not in the slightest.

“Right,” Harry said after a pause to recollect his thoughts, “books.”

Louis’ voice was sarcastic. “Well, yes. It is a bookstore, you know. You can tell from the books.” He gestured in a sweeping motion to the precarious shelves and stacks that filled the tiny store.

“Oh, that’s what those are?” Harry said with mock incredulity.

“I’d slap you if you weren’t a customer.”

“Well that remains to be seen. So far the staff has been a bit standoffish,” Harry said with a smirk, already far too caught up in this short boy with the big glasses and the bigger bum.

“Oh come on, the coat thing wasn’t enough?” Louis shot back. “Anyway, what are you looking for today? The store is a bit, well, a lot unorganized so it’s probably best if I help you find it. Browsing will get you pretty much nowhere.” Harry turned to the nearest shelf and realized how true this was when he saw the titles next to one another: _Home Décor for The Modern Woman_ rested against _Romeo and Juliet_ which was squished in next to a Justin Bieber biography. Scanning the room, Harry was very pleased with the loving sort of chaos that it seemed to be made up of. The shabby coziness of it appealed to the hipster in him, and even he had to admit that was quite a large part of him. Just looking at his appearance you could peg him as one: worn out boots, skinny jeans, ripped flannel, a smattering of nonsensical tattoos, and even a few necklaces dangling onto his collarbones. The store was the sort of place he’d like to sip black coffee and scratch song lyrics onto a notepad, or perhaps one where he’d lounge and pretend to study while wrapped in a handmade quilt, or maybe most of all it was a place he’d want to sit snuggled in someone’s arms and watch snow fall outside from the comfort of that armchair in the corner. In any case, it seemed like a place where ordinary things took on a poetic strain, and that was Harry’s favorite kind of place.

He turned back to look at Louis, whose eyes were still trained on him with a slightly dazed sort of curiosity. “I’m not really looking for a book,” he confessed, “I’m sort of an e-reader kind of guy.”

Louis’ eyebrows raised for a moment and then an exaggerated sigh pierced the air as he turned back towards the desk (Harry’s eyes may have flashed back down to his butt, only for a second though, he’d surely tell you) and tossed his hands up in the air. “Well, you’re a lost cause! Get out of my store!”

“Oh come on, it’s better for the environment, it’s more convenient, it’s…” Here Harry was cut off by Louis slamming a thick, old, paperback book onto the desk.

“Come here,” Louis said, beckoning. Harry would have liked to say he resisted, but already he doubted there was an order from this stranger he wouldn’t obey. As he reached Louis, the smaller boy held the book open at a random page and shoved it into Harry’s face. “Inhale.” Harry did as he was told, breathing in the musty scent of glue and paper and whatever else gave old books their scent. Mold, Harry supposed. “I bet you can’t get that with your kindle!”

Louis reached out and grabbed Harry’s right hand, guiding the book into it. “Now, how does that feel in your hand?” He gave Harry no time to answer before jumping back in. “Good, right? Solid, real, not just some file on a glorified iPad?” He pulled the book, which Harry could now see was _Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers,_ back from Harry’s hand and closed it gently, running his fingers along the spine in what was nearly a caress. “Books hold memories. You care about them and they care about you. They hold a piece of the person you were when you read it, and each reader adds something new to it. That’s why I love used books- there’s more than just the book’s story in there, there’s the people’s story.” Louis was silent for a second, eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of him, before his head snapped back to Harry’s and a sheepish smile spread on his cheeks. “Sorry, rambling. Books do that to me sometimes. I love them.”

“I can see that,” Harry said, looking past the glasses at those impossibly blue eyes. He thought about how he could probably watch this boy talk about books for hours on end and not get bored. That probably wasn’t a normal thought to have within the first 10 minutes of meeting someone, but it seemed perfectly alright if that someone was this someone.

“I’m Harry, by the way.” He offered his hand, and Louis took it quickly.

“Louis.”

“Pleased to meet you, Louis.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” Louis said. “So, why did you come in here if not for books? We really don’t sell much else.” Harry looked down at the front of the desk where there was a tiny rack of postage stamps and bookmarks.

“Needed to warm up a bit, it’s frigid out there”

“Yeah, it looks it,” Louis gazed out the window at the snow just beginning to fall, “I’m not looking forward to walking home.”

Harry sipped his now-room-temperature coffee and they both stared out the front window. The snow was collecting quickly in gutters and on awnings. Tomorrow morning everything would be white. There was a twinge of regret in his voice as Harry said “I guess I should go soon. Don’t want to get snowed in.” It occurred suddenly to Harry that getting snowed in was actually quite appealing at the moment. He wouldn’t mind spending a night among unorganized books with Louis, not one bit. But he supposed it might be a bit forward to say _unless you’d rather I delay until the snow blocks the door and we could stay here together._ Maybe. Then again Louis’ eyes had lost a little of their sparkle when he’d mentioned leaving, so maybe the image of the two of them nestled against a bookshelf had flashed through his mind as well. After a second (or an hour, he couldn’t be quite sure), Harry moved to the coat rack and began wrapping his scarf back around his neck.

“Leaving so soon?” Although it was meant as a joke, there was a little hint of hurt in his tone, if Harry wasn’t mistaken. He spun around and grinned at Louis.

“As much as I’d love to stay the night, I do have class tomorrow.”

“Class?”

“Uni.”

“Studying?”

“Um, you’ll probably laugh at me,” Harry said, blushing to the carpet.

“Probably. But you should still tell me.”

When Harry looked back up, the other boy’s face was expectant, eyebrows raised.

“Um, philosophy with a minor in history,” was Harry’s quiet response. He was a bit self-conscious about his major, as most everyone seemed to think he was just paying some instructor to ask him “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” which was obviously not the case. I mean, they’d talked about that question, but there was more than that.

Louis nodded slowly, and ran his eyes up and down Harry’s frame. “Suits you,” was all he said.

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

Harry’s eyes hovered on Louis a little longer and then turned back to the coat rack, pulling his scarf a little tighter.

“Let me help.” Louis was already at his side, pulling the coat off its hook, helping Harry into it, hands staying a second too long on his shoulders.

“You know, I can dress myself, believe it or not.”

“Really? You seem quite helpless to me. I think you’re lucky this bookstore has such a great butler service or you’d probably have managed to strangle yourself with that scarf by now.”

Harry snickered, “You’re probably right, I never was good with those things.”

Silence hung expectantly, neither boy knowing what to say.

“Well, uh, thanks for… um.” Harry paused, realizing Louis hadn’t really helped him with anything.

“You too, pumpkin,” Louis winked.

Harry started for the door but just as he was opening it Louis’ voice called him back.

“Wait!” Harry turned expectantly, slightly confused. “Here. You should really read something written on paper for once.” Harry took the book from Louis’ outstretched hand and ran a thumb along the gold, embossed title. It was a book of greek myths.“Have you read it already?” Louis asked, suddenly worried.

“No, I haven’t. Probably should though, for greek philosophy and all that. How much do I owe you?” Harry reached into his pocket and fished around for his wallet until he felt Louis’ grip on his hand, gentle but insistent, and yielded to the touch, letting it be pulled back out of the pocket. Louis wrapped both his hands around Harry’s bigger one, and looked up at him.

“On the house,” he said with a small smile, “on the condition that you report back to me your favourites once you’ve read it.”

Harry’s smile was wide and unfaltering. “I promise.”

And with that, he was gone, breathing cold air into his lungs with a ghost of Louis’ hands still on his and a book tucked under his arm.     

* * *

                            

Harry devoured the book. He read the whole thing in two days and then reread it, this time highlighting and writing in notes and truly absorbing the stories and the characters. He was surprised that he’d never looked much into greek mythology before- it was absolutely fascinating stuff. The reading actually came in handy as well, when Harry referenced the myth of Hestia, goddess of the hearth who gave up her position as goddess, in a class debate on the essence of humanity. No matter how much he loved the stories, though, they seemed to only make him think of Louis. Louislouislouislouislouis. His whole brain oozed with the word, with soft hair and blue eyes and warm hands on yellowed pages. Louis was like a haze of a person. He practically glowed, really, or at least that was how Harry remembered him. Harry saw Louis in all the Greek Gods, but most of all in Apollo: god of light, poetry, knowledge, and manly beauty, among other things.

It had been a week since that snowy evening when Harry set out for Chapter 17 Books, this time on purpose. He was bundled up in winter clothes, as it had only gotten snowier and colder since that day. The store was only a few blocks from his house, but when he stepped inside, greeted by the dinging of door chimes, he was already practically frozen solid. Even his hands which were properly covered by mittens and holding two hot chocolates were chilly. He looked over and saw practically the same scene as last week- Louis was in the armchair with his knees up to his chin, thick framed glasses peeking out from his fringe and a book wedged in his hands.

“Hi,” Harry said, suddenly realizing he hadn’t really planned this meeting out.

Louis didn’t seem to notice his sudden awkwardness because he greeted Harry with one of those shining smiles that reminded Harry so much of the sun god. “Hello! I was getting a bit worried there that you’d taken the book and run.” He hopped out of the chair and took the starbucks cups from Harry, set them down on the desk, and moved behind Harry to help him out of his coat.

“I see you’ve still got the butler service.”

“Of course. It’s really our only selling feature; we couldn’t phase it out now, not when business is booming!”

Harry was freed from his last scarf and pulled the book from his jumper pocket. “I read it.”

Louis looked back from hanging the various winter garments and his smile widened. He looked into Harry’s eyes expectantly. “And…?”

“And I loved it.”

“I knew you would,” Louis replied with a smirk.

“The stories are so beautiful, well I mean some of them are awful like that one guy who had to have his liver eaten out of him every day forever, but I mean overall they’re lovely.”

“Ah yes, Prometheus. Pretty bad fate, that one. The Greeks could be a bit gruesome at times.”

“But they were great lovers too.”

Louis paused a moment before replying. “I suppose you can be a bit gruesome if you’re a good enough lover.”

Harry snorted a laugh in response, and took a sip from the nearest cup. “Oh, I brought hot chocolate. Here.” He handed the warm paper cup to Louis, who took it with a slightly puzzled smile, which made Harry realize that it probably wasn’t completely normal to bring hot beverages to bookstore clerks who you’ve only met once before. Then again, he didn’t really care as soon as he saw Louis sip from the cup, hands cupped around the warm cylinder and small pink mouth pursed.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s nice, what with all this cold weather.” Saying this, Louis turned to the window and wiped some fog off of it to peer outside. The snow had fallen thick and beautiful outside, coating everything in a thick coat.

“It’s so beautiful,” Harry murmured, “I’ve always loved winter. I mean, it’s cold, but it gives you an excuse to wear lots of scarves and drink hot cocoa. It’s a cozy season, I think.” Louis nodded slightly, as if processing Harry’s words. “And being out in the snow is great too, makes you feel so alive. You know? The cold air always does that to me.”

“I’m more of a summer guy myself,” Louis admitted, running a finger around the rim of his cup. “I don’t do well with all this,” he gestured broadly, indicating the outside, “this wetness and coldness. I just associate winter with runny noses and frozen pipes.” He paused a moment and then jumped back in as if trying to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with winter! I see the appeal of course; it’s just not my cup of tea.”

“Right, yeah, no problem. You suit summer better anyway, I think.”

Louis turned his head and looked at Harry with that same slightly puzzled expression as earlier and once again Harry thought that maybe that comment had been a bit odd. But it was true, Louis was all tan skin and soft muscle and sharp edges. Harry was blurrier, skinner, vaguer. He was unsure whereas Louis was definite.

“What were you reading?” Harry asked, walking back to the desk.

“Oh, it’s silly.” Louis ran over and closed the book facedown. Even like that Harry could see it was a kids storybook. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

“Try me.”

Louis sighed and seemed to realize that Harry most likely would not find it that silly. “Ok, but you have to tell me something stupid about yourself after.”

Harry smiled. “Deal.”

Flipping the book over, Louis revealed the pale blue cover. It was an old book, but in good condition. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” Harry read. “Oh yeah, I think I read that when I was little. Wasn’t it sad?”

“Very. I actually started rereading it last week but forgot all about it. It was in the back of my drawer today so I thought I’d finish it. Then you walked in.”

“I suppose there are worse things I could’ve walked in on you doing…”

Louis released a burst of laughter and slapped him on the arm. “Naughty!”

Harry simply shrugged. “I’ve been told I have a dirty mind.”

“I just have a dirty mouth.”

“Oh, fucking bad to have one of those,” Harry said with a grin.

“Yeah, fucking bullshit terrible. Absolute bollocks,” Louis answered through a giggle.

“Massive damn fucking shitstorm.”

“Shower of cunts.”

“Never heard that one before!”

“My mate Niall,” Louis explained, “he’s got quite the mouth on him. Irish, y’know?”

“Ahh yes, those ones can be nasty. He does sound fun though.” Harry paused for a sip of hot chocolate. “So, the velveteen rabbit. What’s it about again?”

“Here.” Louis held the book out to him. “It can be your next reading assignment,” he said with a wink. Harry accepted the book, looked it over for a moment, and the tucked it into his back pocket.

“Thank you. I’ll read it and report back. Promise.”

“Good. Now, you have to tell me something silly. It was the deal!”

Harry sighed through a smile. “Alright, fine. But you’re probably going to think I’m dumb or something.”

Louis shook his head, “I promise I won’t laugh!”

“Ok, so I uh… I have a bunch of tattoos.”

“That’s not silly; I can see that already!”

“Well let me get to the stupid part then, dummy,” Harry said. Louis rolled his eyes and made the motion of zipping his lips shut, and then leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms, listening. “Ok, I don’t really think it’s stupid, I like it, but all my friends make fun of my butterfly tattoo.”

“Butterfly?” Louis said with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, butterfly. On my tummy.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to show me?”

Harry blushed and stammered for a moment before nodding resignedly and rolling up his shirt to reveal the stylized butterfly inked just under his ribcage. Louis smiled at first but as it became fully revealed he appeared to be concentrating very hard. He cocked his head to one side and examined the tattoo, after a long moment reaching out his hand and tracing warm fingertips over the wings. Harry giggled at the touch, a slightly nervous giggle because _Louis was touching him, Louis was touching his stomach, Louis could see his abs (Or lack thereof), Louis was looking at the butterfly tattoo, Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis._ Louis’ hand withdrew after a few seconds and Harry pulled his shirt back down. They stood in silence, neither one looking the other in the eyes. It felt as if there was some new scent in the air; something had changed.

“Bit silly, huh?” Harry said softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Louis nodded slightly, but his words contradicted him. “I think it’s actually quite beautiful. It’s like butterflies in your stomach.”

And when Louis looked at him Harry could feel the butterflies piling up in there, fluttering around and knocking the air out of him, making his heart beat too fast and his lungs forget to breathe properly. “Thanks. It also reminds me a bit that life is short. Because, y’know, butterflies only live a few days. Like one big blaze of life and then over. And it’s not so much that I want to live like that… not at all really. I don’t like taking risks just for the sake of it, but I do think it’s important to remember that we don’t have that long. To remember to make it count.”

Louis’ eyes were still locked on Harry’s when he finished. He looked down, twisting his cup in his hands, before he spoke. “That’s what I’m worried about, really.” Louis’ voice was quieter than before. He sounded like hidden passageways and secrets whispered in the dead of night and Harry couldn’t help slipping under the spell of his soft voice and sharp face and nervous fingers. “That I’m not making it count. What am I doing really? I just work in this stupid bookstore. I’m pointless.”

“You’re not.” Harry’s hands gripped the smaller boy’s shoulders suddenly, jolting him out of his reverie. “You’re not pointless.” Where their eyes met, sparks flew. “And this store isn’t stupid. It’s beautiful; it feels like coming home; it’s special. You’re special.” Harry dropped his hands and turned away, tucking them into his pockets. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I come on strong.”

“No. Thank you.” Louis tapped Harry gently on the elbow, willing him to turn his eyes once more to Louis. “Thank you. I know I don’t really know you, but I can tell you’re different. You get things- like that butterfly tattoo and winter and the myths and I just, I just… Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying. Thank you.”

It was Harry who finally broke the comfortable, if tentative, silence. “Well, I’ll read this and report back.” He smiled again and gave a mock salute, holding the book against his forehead.

Louis slipped easily into the joke; it was his best way of dealing when things got too intense. “Right, soldier. Now bundle up and march out!”

“Well I can’t bundle myself! I’ve come to rely on the fantastic coat service in this joint.”

Louis sighed dramatically and pulled Harry’s clothes off the rack, carefully tucking him into them. He finished by pushing Harry’s (large, tortoiseshell, glaringly hipster) glasses up his nose. “All better?”

“Much. What would I do without you?”

“Probably freeze to death.”

“Probably. I guess it’s good you’re around.”

Louis bowed deep with a flourish and opened the door for Harry, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. “Your carriage, my liege.”

“Why thank you, lowly servant.” Harry stepped halfway out the door but stopped with a foot still inside and grabbed Louis’ still outstretched hand. He bit his lip and stared at the ground as he said “I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

Louis squeezed the bigger hand back and nodded. And with that, Harry was gone again, wondering if perhaps Louis was just a figment of his imagination.

* * *

 

Their routine developed quickly. Harry would bring starbucks, Louis would take his coat, they would talk about the book, talk about themselves, talk, talk, talk. Harry would most likely find himself gazing a little too intently at Louis’ backside. Louis would ask about another tattoo of Harry’s. Another book would be given. And then they would repeat.

The books, no matter how interesting and wonderfully written and beautiful, were always overshadowed by Louis in Harry’s mind. Even at the climax of an adventure novel the image of blue eyes burned in his retinas, his hands longed for a touch of that hair or, in his wildest dreams, that ass. Louis consumed him from the inside out, but it was surely the sweetest way to die. As their meetings progressed Harry would read the books faster and faster, craving his return to the cozy bookstore he now practically called home, until he was staying up to all hours of the night reading 1000 page novels in 24 hours just so he could return the next day and earn a glowing smile for understanding the themes in _War and Peace._

One day when Harry came in, steaming cups in hand, Louis’ eyes were red-rimmed and he was perched on the edge of the chair tensely, his knuckles white on the book in front of him. He didn’t even notice the faint dinging of the doorbell. Harry stood in silence for a moment as Louis flipped a page, as tears gathered in his eyes and finally a sob wracked his body. Harry couldn’t watch any longer. “Hey,” he said gently, moving toward the desk. Louis head jolted up and his eyes were round with an almost humorous mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and residual sadness.

“Harry, I, uh, I didn’t hear you come in,” He said, frantically wiping his eyes with the back of a hand and pushing his fringe down over his face as if trying to hide that he’d been crying (utterly futile).

“It’s okay,” Harry said, sitting on the edge of the desk, “What were you reading?”

Louis blushed. “It’s so stupid, oh god you’re going to think I’m such a baby.”

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry tapped the other boy’s shoulder and waited for him to look up before continuing. “What on earth could even vaguely lead you to believe that I would EVER make fun of you or think you were dumb?”

“Um…” Louis trailed off. He was at a loss for words.

“Nothing, right? I’ve shown you my freaking butterfly tattoo!” Louis giggled at that. “C’mon, Lou. What is it?”

Louis sighed and looked at Harry with one of those expressions that almost made Harry think that his obsession was reciprocated. Then he flipped the book over, revealing the title: _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows._

“Oh my GOD! There is no shame in crying at that!” Harry practically shouted. “What part are you at?” he bent over, trying to read the page that it had fallen open to.

“Dobby’s death,” Louis said, but the sun was back in his face since Harry’s little outburst.

“I cried for hours, I swear.”

“It gets me every time.”

And suddenly, although Harry didn’t quite know how it happened, Louis was wrapped in his arms and a pair of hands was squeezing his back and he was nestled in that gorgeous hair and Louis, oh god, he was so warm and soft yet hard at the same time. His body was muscle coated in velvet. Harry breathed him in deeply, inhaling the scent of lavender and old books that hung on the boy almost as strongly as it did in the air of the bookstore. A long moment of torsos pressed against one another passed, and then they released their grip.

“I was right. You’re a good hugger. Had you pegged from day one!” Louis laughed.

“Well you’re not bad yourself.”

And so it was things like that, like the way Louis fingers tended to rest on Harry’s nose a little longer every day as he pushed his glasses up, like the increasingly romantic nature of the books Louis was setting him, like the relief in his face when harry came through the doors after three days away… It was those little things that were catching up with Harry. He felt like his fondness was seeping out of cracks in his body, like it couldn’t be contained much longer.

It had been two months since Harry wandered into Chapter 17 books. He sat on the floor, sharing a blanket with Louis and sipping hot chocolate. They were leaning against the desk, flipping through a book of gardening images. Over the past 60 or so days, the boys had become impossibly close. Harry couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t visit Louis every evening and sit chatting for hours on end, a world where he didn’t read a book a night. It had all become inextricably entwined with his identity. They had each other’s numbers but they’d never met up outside of their regular evenings. To Harry, these meetings seemed slightly unreal, like they had different rules than the real world. Calling Louis up to hang out some other time would break this tenuous relationship they had, and it was working perfectly at the moment, so he didn’t want to risk that. Well, almost perfectly. There was still Harry’s unending desire for a feel of Louis’ butt, and the way his skin flared up when their arms brushed, but that would remain Harry’s little secret, he’d sworn to himself.

It was lucky, then, that Louis made the first move, or perhaps it never would’ve been made.

The gardening book had landed on a full-page image of a beautiful house with mounds of lilacs crowded around the base, and roses climbing a trellis to a picture window. It was, in a word, idyllic.

“I’d like to live somewhere like that someday,” Louis murmured.

Harry’s hand found itself enclosed by Louis’ smaller one, all of a sudden. When he looked up from the picture to the face beside him, Louis’ eyes were already trained on him. From there, it was easy. Their lips slotted against one another ever so gently, heads turning and eyes closing. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. His glasses clicked against Louis’ and he almost giggled. Their mouths slid against one another and then away. It was short, quiet, tentative, and yet somehow perfect.

When his eyes opened again, the expression that greeted him was wary, yet glowing. Louis simply oozed happiness, but yet he still looked unsure- trying to figure out if harry was okay with this. In answer, Harry squeezed his hand tighter and brought his lips back to Louis. They kissed deeply, but slowly, exploring each other’s’ mouths. Everything fell into place so seamlessly that Harry could barely imagine what they’d been doing all these weeks if not kissing.

After something like a hundred heartbeats, they pulled back from one another again.

“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Louis blushed.

“Me too,”

They wore the silence like the blanket strewn over their laps.

As Louis twisted one of Harry’s rings around his finger, Harry found himself saying “you know, you always reminded me of one of those greek gods.”

Louis stiffened slightly and he face became inquisitive. “Which one?”

“Appollo.”

“Really?

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Well for one you glow about as bright as the sun…”

“Shut up!” Louis giggled.

“And of course he is the God of manly beauty, and you’ve got that covered…”

“Poseidon,” Louis burst out.

“What?”

“The God, Poseidon.”

“What about him?”

“You’ve always reminded me of him.”

“Why?”

“Your hair looks like an ocean.”

“I know, I work on it for 6 hours before setting foot outside the house.”

“You wanna know why?”

“Yes.”

“Well, among other things- your chaotic nature, the way you change quickly like the sea, your way of slipping into the people around you- they called him ‘earth shaker’. And you’ve certainly done that.”

Harry didn’t answer, simply placed his hands on Louis’ face and pulled them together once again. This kiss was different. It was electric. All the wanting that both of them had been struggling so long to keep in check bubbled up and they were a mess of tongues and lips. Louis’ hands tangled in Harry’s hair and Harry’s balled in the front of Louis’ shirt. Louis pulled a knee over Harry’s lap so he was straddling him, and pulled their bodies even closer together. Harry’s greedy hands ran down the slim torso in front of him and slipped beneath the t shirt, catching touches of soft skin that caused him to moan into their kiss. He tugged the shirt upward, placed his large palms on Louis’ lower back, and took in the sensation of warm expanses of skin he now had access to.

“Wait… just one second,” Louis said, and pulled reluctantly off of Harry. He ran to the door and flipped the open sign to “closed” (not that anyone else ever came in here this late anyway) and pulled a string that closed the blinds all the way. Then he rushed back to Harry and repositioned himself in the larger boy’s lap. Before pressing their lips back together he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a tiny softness in his belly and an endless canvas of tan skin. Harry followed suit, displaying his lanky frame dotted with tattoos, and they pressed against each other again. Louis was like a drink of water to a dying man- Harry couldn’t take in enough of him. His hands were busy moving from back to tummy to chest to shoulders to hair to face. He couldn’t decide where he liked best. Louis’ hands felt like heaven on his body. They traced the birds on his collarbones, and then Louis’ head dipped down to run kisses along them. Harry leaned his head back and sighed in pleasure at the biting kisses on his neck and chest. They would surely leave marks, but that was the least of his thoughts at the moment.

Louis slid further and further down Harry, paying special attention to the butterfly tattoo. He showered it in tiny kissed that made Harry tickle before sucking a hickey right on the centre of it.

“Oh God, Louis…” Harry breathed as the smaller boy licked over the mark he’d just made. Louis looked up at him with fiery eyes and moved his hand to the crotch of Harry’s (still impossibly skinny) jeans.

“Do you want me to..”

“Do you want to…?”

“Yes.”

“Well then you’d better get to it,” Harry said. Louis’ only response was a heart melting giggle and the unzipping of Harry’s fly. Harry raised his hips to allow his jeans and pants to slide off, and took in Louis’ eager look at the sight of his half-hard cock.

He wasted no time getting Harry into his mouth, taking only a few strokes before tonguing the head lightly. Louis slowly licked his way down and back up the length and then took him in his mouth. He swirled his tongue against the tip, then plunged further onto Harry’s cock, beginning to pump up and down. He kept a hand at the base, gently stroking and working the shaft. Louis took his time, but eventually took Harry’s dick all the way into his mouth. The process was peppered by Harry’s groans and “oh yes”-es, and finally a satisfying moan when he felt his cock brush the edge of Louis’ throat. Louis pumped up and down, using his hand and mouth to pleasure Harry, who couldn’t help but knot his fingers in that hair that he’d died to touch for so long now.

Louis didn’t want to climax then and there, so when he felt himself getting close he tugged Louis back up to his mouth and slid his hands down to the base of his back. Harry took a moment before placing them on Louis’ ass, because it felt like some sort of momentous occasion: “The Day I Touched Louis Tomlinson’s Ass” he could title a song about the experience, or a novel, or a movie, or a thesis. As his hands made their way over those snug jeans he realized that Louis’ ass transcended words. It was something that could only be felt (quite literally, in this case.) As he squeezed its perfect roundness Louis released a groan into their kiss and rutted up against Harry.

“Let’s get you out of those pants, shall we?” Harry said between kisses.

“Yeah, your turn to be my butler.”

Harry tugged the trousers down and Louis shook them off his ankles, then they did the same with his pants until both boys were naked, hard cocks pressed against each other between their boiling hot bodies.

“My god, you are beautiful,” Harry said, skimming his fingertips down from Louis’ cheek all the way to his bum.

“You’re one to talk, curly.”

Harry silenced Louis by wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it gently, then increasing his momentum. Louis was already slick with sweat and precum.

“Want you… want you to…”

“What?” Louis mocked, playing dumb. “What do you want me to do?”

“Oh stop it…”

“Stop what? Stop kissing you? I’d rather not.”

“FUCK ME ALREADY!”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Louis said with a smirk, then pulled Harry up and laid him back across the desk. Harry brushed a few books aside to make way for his long body.

“Oh, I don’t have any-” Harry started, but was cut off by Louis.

“Don’t worry, I do.” He reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a little bottle of lube.

“Really? In your desk at _work_?”

“Hey, don’t complain or I won’t use any at all. See how you like that!”

Harry laughed but shut his mouth and spread his legs. Louis poured a generous amount of the liquid onto harry and his hand and then began rubbing his asshole with one finger, slowly nudging him open. “Wow, you’re tight,” he muttered as he slowly slid one finger inside, inciting a gasp of pleasure from Harry. He pushed the finger all the way in, then slid it out and began gentle thrusts, getting him opened up. Once the first finger was sliding easily, Louis added a second. Harry’s moans were an unbroken chain now, pausing every now and again only for him to pant “Louis” over and over again.

Louis pulled his fingers out now and lubed up his cock. He tugged harry to the edge of the desk and leaned over him, lining his cock up with Harry’s asshole.

“Fuck me, Louis. Now. Do it.”

And with that, Louis pushed into Harry. He mashed their lips together as he slid in, and Harry gasped as he felt Louis brush against his prostate. Louis made it all the way in, and then pulled out again painstakingly slowly to begin his next thrust. Harry felt so full, so complete, and not just physically. Louis felt like the missing piece of him. He was everything Harry was not, and yet somehow they just worked. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ back and dragged his nails over the skin, pulling Louis into him tighter.

Louis’ thrusts increased speed and depth until he was pounding Harry hard. Harry pulled him down by the back of the neck and bit marks into his throat. They were fire and water, Apollo and Poseidon.  Louis choked out “Harry, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” He pulled out and wrapped a hand around both he and Harry’s cocks. Harry added his hand to Louis’ and they both stroked themselves to climax, covering each other in sticky fluid. Louis traced the butterfly tattoo, now covered in both of their cum. Drained, they both lay back on the ground and wrapped the blanket around themselves once more. Louis draped a leg over Harry’s hips and pulled him tight even though they were far too dirty and hot to be cuddling. The taller boy laid gentle kisses into Louis’ head.

They stayed like that for quite some time, cradling each other, still adjusting to the fact that all this was real, until Harry broke the silence.

“So, uh, do you want to come sleep at my place tonight?”

The look on Louis’ face was answer enough.

* * *

 

Harry adjusted his tie in the mirror and fussed with his hair once more before moving out the door into their living room.

“Lou?” he called out. “You ready yet?”

“Coming!” came the answer from across the flat. Still in the bathroom, probably doing his hair. Louis had recently taken to styling his hair into a very tall, very gelled quiff (not that Harry was complaining, it looked amazing.) A few moments later, Louis trundled out of the washroom. The suit he wore fit him like a glove.

“You look amazing, as always,” Harry said, coming towards him.

“I could say the same to you.” Louis pulled his boyfriend into a kiss, tilting his head back to reach Harry’s mouth. “So what is this special occasion that you’ve gotten me to dress up all fancy for?”

“We’re going out to dinner.”

“Well, yes, I knew that. But why?”

Harry breathed deeply and looked into Louis’ eyes. “One year ago today I walked into your store for the first time.”

Louis smiled slowly, and then pulled Harry close to him. “My life changed that day.”

“Mine too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Now come help me get this coat on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr at http://paynofile.tumblr.com :)


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